Nothing happened. The car remained solidly wedged between floors.
On one of her most hectic business days, she was stuck in a service elevator. With Santa Claus. She groaned again.
“Now what do we do?” she asked aloud, as much to herself as to her companion.
“Push the red alarm button,” the bearded man suggested kindly. “That will alert someone that there’s a problem.”
Ryan obliged, though she couldn’t imagine anyone actually hearing the muted buzz over the frenzied commotion of the mall. They could be trapped in here for hours. She pulled at the high neckline of her Christmas-motif sweater, wondering if the elevator contained enough air.
“You don’t suffer from claustrophobia, I hope,” Santa said, watching her closely.
She managed a weak smile and shook her head. “I never have before.”
“That’s good. I’m afraid I have little experience dealing with hysteria.”
Ryan lifted her chin. “I never,” she said precisely, “get hysterical.”
His smile was almost hidden by his lush, white, amazingly realistic-looking beard. “What a relief.”
Ryan mechanically pushed the alarm button again. “I don’t suppose you have Rudolph trained to rescue you in cases like this,” she said inanely, trying to distract herself from noticing how small the car actually was, or how the walls seemed to be inching a bit closer to her.
“I’m afraid not. But I’m sure maintenance workers are already on the way. In the meantime, why don’t we introduce ourselves? I’m Santa Claus.”
Ryan laughed wryly. “Yes, I know. And I’m Ryan Clark.”
“You work in the lovely doll shop on the third floor.”
“I own it,” she acknowledged. “You’ve been in?”
“Oh, I know all the best toy stores. Yours is delightful. I’ve recommended it to several shoppers.”
“Why, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And now, since we seem to have a few spare moments on our hands, why don’t you tell Santa what you would like for Christmas?”
Her smile deepened. His calm, cheerful attitude relaxed her, making her realize there wasn’t any real reason for panic.
“I want to have a successful, profitable season for my shop,” she replied in answer to his frivolous question.
He frowned and shook his head, the fluffy white ball at the tip of his red cap bouncing with the movement. “I wasn’t talking about business,” he answered, reproving her gently. “I was asking about your true heart’s desire. That’s what the Christmas season is all about, after all.”
“My heart’s desire?” Ryan repeated, taken aback by his quaint phrasing. “I, er—”
“Surely there’s something you want very badly. A cruise, perhaps? A trip to Europe?”
“I’ve seen Europe. I lived there for a year.”
“Ah. So, what would you like?”
Ryan shrugged. She could hardly tell him that she had everything she wanted—with one quite notable exception.
She told herself that it was only the season making her so painfully aware of her single state. So many of her friends were looking for the perfect gift for their mate, making holiday plans for their children, anticipating the Christmas-morning rituals. Ryan was just feeling a bit left out, that was all.
Not something she could admit to a shopping-mall Santa Claus. No one, except maybe Lynn, knew how badly Ryan longed to find the right mate and start a family.
She wanted love. And commitment. A lifetime pledge. Babies. Deep, soul-warming contentment.
For some reason she thought of Max Monroe, with his take-me-if-you-dare smile and don’t-expect-too-much-from-me eyes. For a man like Max, marriage was a four-letter word—like jail. Or hell.
Santa was watching her with an enigmatic smile. “Love isn’t such a difficult thing to ask for, Ryan,” he said, making her stare at him in surprise. “It’s taking a risk on it that’s hard for most people,” he added gently. “All you have to do is open yourself up to possibilities and be ready to act when the opportunity presents itself.”
“I’ll—” she swallowed “—I’ll keep that in mind.”
She wondered if he was putting her on, or if he’d been spending too much time in his Santa suit. Maybe his hat was too tight. Or maybe he’d watched Miracle on 34th Street a few too many times.
The older man chuckled. “What a cynic you are,” he chided, but his tone was good-natured. She assumed he was responding to her expression, since she was reasonably confident that even the “real” Santa’s talents didn’t extend to mind reading.
Her companion reached into a deep pocket of his red velvet jacket and pulled out a peppermint cane. He extended it to her with an old-fashioned flourish. “For you,” he said.
She took the candy with a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The elevator suddenly hummed, jerked again and then started upward.
Ryan smiled in relief. “We’re moving!”
The car stopped on the third floor. The doors slid silently, efficiently open. Ryan stepped out and drew a deep breath of fresh mall air.
She turned to look questioningly at Santa, who hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you getting out?”
He smiled. “No. There are children waiting for me downstairs. Have a nice day, Miss Clark. And don’t forget about those possibilities.”
The elevator closed before she could answer.
Ryan stared in bemusement at the metal doors, the candy cane gripped in one hand. And then she shook her head. “Weird,” she murmured, turning away.
She put the incident out of her mind as she hurried back to her shop. She had many hours of hard work ahead of her. No more time to waste on silly fantasies.
PIP AND KELSEY CAME IN to visit the doll shop after their lunch, as Ryan had invited them to do. From behind the counter, Ryan smiled a greeting, though she was busy with a customer and didn’t have time to chat. She noticed that Kelsey stopped in front of the dark-haired doll at the front of the shop, the one that had so fascinated the little girl the day before.
The children didn’t stay long. By the time Ryan had a break and could have spoken to them, they were gone.
She busied herself behind the counter, picking up a jumble of shopping bags she’d dropped during a busy time earlier.
Her assistant suddenly tugged on her shoulder, urging her to stand upright. “He’s back,” Lynn said in an urgent
